


Thunder

by Procyon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Family Drama, Free Verse, Gen, Hanamura, Poetry, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Procyon/pseuds/Procyon
Summary: The Shimada brothers: their rise, their fall, and their rebirth.





	Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as an experiment of sorts. Honestly, I'd always thought free verse was a little silly until I tried to write it myself. I'd like to think I did okay.
> 
> Also, I've tagged this as "gen" but there is a very very brief exchange that could possibly imply Genji/Mercy, if you choose to interpret it that way.

Rain pads across the rooftops like a living thing  
every drop its footstep  
the mist, its sigh.

Hanzo gazes out  
to see the rainfall pooling on the flagstones  
and feels the air lying heavy over Hanamura.

The lightning flashes.

The thunder calls  
and something in him answers.

He longs to feel rain on his skin  
to drink it in.

Denied, of course.

It would not be proper to splash in puddles,  
child though he is.  
Father would not approve.

Dry beneath the dojo roof  
Hanzo sits alone in meditation  
outwardly, the perfect statue  
of the perfect son.

While Genji, laughing  
plays in the rain that falls on Hanamura  
and Hanzo fights the urge to join him.

  


* * *

  


The brothers learn to fight  
at first, with fists  
and feet  
shurikens  
swords  
naginata  
kama  
and the bow.

Then, with wisdom  
The Art of War  
and The Book of Five Rings.

(though Genji never had patience for books that weren't mere stories  
like the ones Father read to them when they were children  
tales of heroes.  
Impractical and senseless, Hanzo said  
useless as Genji's tokusatsu  
though one day in the dojo  
Genji struck a pose  
_Unbreakable body!_  
so earnestly  
that Hanzo forgot himself and joined)

Hanzo is stronger  
but Genji is faster  
and when they spar  
neither admits that the other won.

Father pronounces them acceptable  
though not quite competent yet.

He calls Genji careless  
_Never turn your back to the enemy._  
And Hanzo impatient  
_You must wait for the proper time to strike._  
But he is pleased.

For now.

  


* * *

  


Hanzo bears the needles with stoic grace.

The dragons itch beneath Hanzo's skin  
and in it, now  
in the tattoo that he admits he hasn't earned the right to wear.

It was a present from Father  
a reminder  
and a promise.

_You carry the dragons with you always._

Father says they are a sign  
the favour of the gods  
the Shimada clan's birthright  
their protectors and guardians.  
But, also, their weapons.

When Father calls the dragons  
his sons watch, enraptured  
but Father is indifferent  
as though commanding any common servant.

_They will obey you too, when you learn how to summon them._

(Genji attends, for once.  
Lately he spends more afternoons in the arcade than in the dojo.  
Say "dragons", and he comes running  
with ramen dripping down his chin.)

_They are within you, sleeping._

Hanzo nudges  
and they wake.

No, "wake" is not the word.

They burst like lightning  
and when they fly from him  
he marvels that any dragon would  
deign to obey a human.

Father looks on  
too haughty to praise his son  
for doing what any Shimada could do  
but he is almost smiling.

Genji can't do it.  
Not for lack of trying.

Hanzo gloats, unseemly as it is  
and calls the dragons once more  
though the effort drains him  
and despite himself, he staggers

Genji reaches out a hand  
to steady his brother  
And Hanzo slaps it aside.

  


* * *

  


Hanzo dreams of storms  
the wind, a servant to his wings  
his voice, the thunder  
his breath, the lightning  
his power, unquestioned-

He wakes to sunlight  
and for the briefest moment  
curses the clear skies.

  


* * *

  


Hanzo wears the responsible elder brother's mask.  
_You neglect your swordplay_  
_and your studies._  
_You disappear for hours._  
(softer, now)  
_Father worries._

Hanzo worries too.

In truth  
he misses his brother  
more than his sparring partner.

He spares a thought:  
an afternoon of ramen and arcade games.  
But there is always one more lesson  
one more tutor.

The clan must come first. Always.  
Hanzo will be master one day  
and no one knows what will become of Genji.

Genji will not meet his eyes.  
_Why should Father worry for me, when he has you?_

_Our father-_

_Father pats my head and calls me Sparrow._  
_Then he looks at you and glows with pride._  
Genji slips away.

Hanzo does not follow.

  


* * *

  


On Father's orders  
and to Father's satisfaction  
Hanzo kills a man.

It is not a clean death  
though Hanzo thrusts the sword just as he was taught.  
Training could not prepare him for the wet sound  
of steel through flesh  
Nor the way his blade scrapes against the bone.  
Hanzo pierces a lung  
and this man, who Father called the enemy  
dies choking on his blood.

Hanzo wipes clean his blade  
with unsteady hands.  
He meets the dead man's eyes  
just once.

(And then again  
in nightmares.)

Father walks away  
composed as always.

  


* * *

  


Genji feigns applause.  
_They have made a fine attack dog of you, brother._  
_What a brave and noble warrior, to strike down an unarmed man._

_This is the price of keeping order._  
Hanzo's voice  
speaking Father's words.  
_And the fate of those who disrespect our family._  
_You should mark it well._

_Oh, I will._  
Genji is not contrite  
not in the least.  
He is smirking.

  


* * *

  


Lord of Hanamura  
master of the Shimada clan  
summoner of dragons.

But Sojiro Shimada is as mortal as any other man.  
Father leaves, to join Mother in the afterlife.

Hanzo mourns him as is only proper  
and stands by his father's body  
the perfect statue  
of his father's perfect son.

His father's only perfect son.

Hanzo's eyes dart to the empty spot beside him  
and the new lord of Hanamura sighs.

Genji creeps home just before dawn.  
Or, rather, staggers  
slick with rain.

The scent of incense clings to Hanzo  
as he takes his brother by the shoulder  
to shove him against a wall.  
_Where have you been?_  
As though it wasn't obvious.

Genji mumbles something in response  
and slumps against his brother  
too drunk to stand.

_Disgraceful._  
_I should leave you here, to sully Father's halls_  
(no, not Father's, not anymore)  
_like the refuse you are._

He doesn't.

Wastrel though he is  
Genji is his brother.  
Hanzo drags him off to bed  
instead of leaving him  
for the servants to deal with.

In the morning, Genji offers no apologies.  
_You noticed I was gone?_

Hanzo fumes.

This is not the first time Genji's come home drunk.  
Nor will it be the last.  
But it's carved a rift between them  
or widened one that was already there.

  


* * *

  


The elders take Hanzo aside one day.

It's about Genji.

Of course.

He is lazy.  
He is impudent.  
He squanders money and dishonours the clan.

He shames himself  
and his birthright.

He disrespects our family.

Correct him.  
He must amend his ways.

_And if he will not?_

Correct him.

That is all.

  


* * *

  


Such things were whispered when Sojiro was alive.  
Now that he is gone, they are admitted openly.  
And louder, day by day.

Something must be done.

Hanzo has lackeys now  
who will do things  
that would dirty Master's hands.

One offers to dispose of Genji.  
It would be silent. Quick.  
A clean death.

_He is my brother._  
He owes Genji this honour.  
One final chance.  
_I will deal with him myself._

  


* * *

  


They stand in the Shimada dojo  
where once they had play-fought as children  
where once they had sparred  
where now they wear real swords.

Where Genji stands  
offering no apologies  
nor the least display of shame.

(These days, Genji's swords are just for show  
like expensive jewellery  
or a fancy watch  
worn only to impress his friends.  
His skills have rusted.)

Hanzo feels the dragons stir  
beneath his skin.  
_You are a disgrace._

An ultimatum:  
redeem yourself  
or face the dragons.  
_They will be less merciful than I._

Genji laughs  
drunk again  
or just insolent.  
_And should I be like you? A criminal? A murderer?_  
_So obsessed with becoming Father_  
_that I forget to live?_

Hanzo takes a swordsman's stance  
one drilled into them as children.  
_How dare you-_

To Genji's credit, he does not plead  
nor show any sign of fear.  
But this is not the stoic face of a warrior  
unmoved by death.  
This is mockery.  
_Will you truly kill me, Hanzo? To maintain order?_

Hanzo had intended mercy  
but he is lord of Hanamura now  
and not to be disdained by such as this.  
Not now.  
Not ever.

He sees so clearly now.  
Genji's impudence  
incurable.

For a heartbeat  
Genji turns his back.

Hanzo's sword flashes like lightning.  
Genji's blood rains on Hanamura.

And this man, who Hanzo called brother-

_Genji._  
_You were always careless._

Hanzo wipes clean his blade  
with shaking hands  
and cannot meet the dead man's eyes.

(Except in nightmares.)

The elders look on  
too haughty to praise Hanzo  
for doing what any Shimada should do  
but they are almost smiling.

  


* * *

  


That night, Hanzo dreams  
not of a drunken fool  
not of storms  
but of a child  
laughing in the rain.

  


* * *

  


His family's empire  
built on drugs  
and weapons  
(and worse)  
and blood  
and fear  
and cruelty.

When pushed, it topples.

He has enemies who know things they should not.

Guard schedules  
shipping manifests  
private documents  
even blueprints.

_This is vengeance._  
The wrath of the gods, falling on him  
for what he did to Genji  
and what he does now, in their father's name.

Hanzo sees them  
gathering on the horizon like thunderclouds  
and, eyes fixed on the empty spot beside him  
he waits.

Even a dragon cannot turn back the storm.

Hanzo flees in the night  
and only for a moment  
thinks of surrendering himself.

At times  
drunk on sake  
and on sorrow  
he thinks of little else.

  


* * *

  


Years later  
the brothers reunite  
beneath the skies of Hanamura.  
Hanzo offering prayers and incense  
for one he thought murdered  
and Genji offering forgiveness  
to a man who will not hear it.

They sit now  
drinking tea, and only tea.

( _No alcohol. Never again._  
Genji's sheepish, for once.  
_Doctor Ziegler's orders._ )

Since the Shimada clan fell  
Hanzo has had few moments like this.  
_It has been...lonely._  
He was hunted like a prize stag  
driven from his home  
fallen from pampered scion  
to mere vagrant.

He has slept in dirt  
near-starved  
killed for money  
or survival  
or nothing at all.

Hardly the life their father intended.

Scant complaints, next to what Genji must have suffered.  
_What was left of you, after...I..._

_Barely enough._  
He says it simply.  
No bitterness  
nor resentment.

(Well, perhaps a little.)

As he explains it, he was saved twice.

Once by Doctor Ziegler  
who healed his wounds  
and built him new eyes  
new legs  
and sleek armour to hide his scars.

_In return, I helped Blackwatch destroy our family._  
There is sorrow in Genji's voice  
filtered as it is through cybernetics  
and the depths of time.  
Sorrow, but not regret.  
_I killed for them, and gladly._

(For Blackwatch hides in shadow  
and their hands are stained  
with the blood of the wicked and unjust.)

(For when they were children  
Shimada Castle was not a den of criminals.  
It was home.) 

There is something else when he speaks of Doctor Ziegler  
of Angela  
of her gentle smile  
and kind eyes.

Hanzo's never heard that tone from him before.  
_You loved her._

_I-_  
Genji is silent for a long moment.  
_I hated what she made of me._  
A metal shell to hide a broken body  
and a heart kept beating by machines.  
Rebuilt, but at what cost?  
_I hated what I had become._  
_I was angry. At you. At the world._  
_If I had met you then, I would not have shown you mercy._

(They do not speak of their reunion  
when Hanzo had felt Genji's sword pressed to his throat  
but not a speck of fear.)

_When Overwatch fell, I wandered until I met my master_  
_and he helped me to find peace within myself._  
_A peace I did not think could be found._

Zenyatta, the Omnic monk.  
The one who lives in mountains  
and preaches that machines have souls.

_One day, you should meet him._  
Genji is alight with tales of Zenyatta's wisdom.  
This is not a side of him that Hanzo has ever seen.  
Perhaps this Omnic-

Still.  
_There is no peace for me._

_Let us find it._  
_Come with me, brother._

Come with me.

As though it were so simple.  
As though Genji's presence is not  
a constant reminder  
of all Hanzo's crimes  
and their family's, too.

_I must think on this._

As though he sees a more inviting path.

The world is set open before them  
like one of Genji's novels.

Hanzo reaches out  
to turn the page.

  


* * *

  


That night Hanzo dreams of Hanamura  
of Father's lessons  
of storm winds  
of a child  
laughing in the rain.

This time  
just this once  
Hanzo joins his brother  
and the rain soaks them  
as they play  
together.


End file.
